That said, I'm at work.
BoW is at home preparing for the more traditional celebration of Christmas, American style, much of which includes her freaking out white-woman style about getting it all done in time. Clearly, I'll be no help this year.
On the plus side, our first assistant, BB, has already packed his family off on a plane to FL to see extended family, so he's been bringing in both his dog, Hudson, and his waffle iron to make the weekend a bit more civilized.
So, whether your solstice is about the Nativity, the re-emergence of the sun goddess Amaterasu from the cave where she's been hiding, hiding yourself from the peak potency of Chernobog, or a remembrance of your people's heroic stand against Hellenistic invaders, get warm, get the people you love close, get down with some good food and drinks, and tell some good stories. My next will be about Christmas dinner.
2 comments:
You're the bestest.
I just bought a tree from an angry out-of-work bartender from the Bronx. Puts a lot of things into perspective, that does.
I was there, and I've survived to say that the waffles saved the day - both days, actually. Why bother standing eggs on end to make a point about where we happen to be in the great whirling scheme, when you could just crack them and make batter?
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